


Sanctify

by h0neybeebear



Series: Unbroken [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Face Slapping, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-17 07:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0neybeebear/pseuds/h0neybeebear
Summary: It's been mere weeks since the first time, but every day in between that has passed has written my desire for her submission so deeply into bones that it can't be erased. If I scrub down to the very marrow I won't have even scraped the surface of this longing. This is my fate, etched into the unyielding stone of my own existence.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Olivia _

There's things that I know I should be aware in this moment - the water running to an almost scalding temperature over my hands for one; fatigue and exhaustion riddling me after a 16 hour work day for another... but I can only concentrate on the miniscule - my heart racing shallowly in my chest, my palm stinging from flesh to flesh contact, my body yearning at it's very center. 

I’m standing in my master bathroom, trying to find some kind of control, even the barest thread of it to hold onto before I open the door to my bedroom again. My escape to these cold, four walls had been nothing short of desperate, and now that I’m here, I’m not sure how I will carefully erect the fallen walls of my fortress again.

The sound of the water running is finally too much against my ears and I twist it off forcefully.

In my peripheral I can see myself, head bent, but I wouldn't dare to stare myself down in this instant.

Just last night I wondered at exactly the way I could wean her off of her dependency on me. I was thinking of ending this before it truly began...but then she knocked on my door, eyes wide and watery, her expression pleading.

I crumbled.

Every single logical thought had left my brain, replaced by an errant desire that won't stop pounding through my body. I let her in, and now she’s burrowing down into every fiber of my being, wrapping herself through the passageways to my heart. She’s plowing down every technique I’ve taught myself in order not to feel too much for one single person...

Lifting my hands, I gaze down at my open palms, one flushed and pink still. I squeeze it closed, flex my fingers against the tingle that permeates layers of skin and bone, bleeding hot passion into my blood.

I press my eyes shut against a shudder.

I can still remember the sound of my hand striking her, breaking her slowly - exactly as she desires. I can almost feel her lunging against me, murmuring soft cries as she unwinds in my embrace. She shivers when it's over, seeking my embrace like a lost child...Then when her tears have dried, she nuzzles into me, her fingers seeking beneath my clothing to clasp bare flesh as if boundaries don't even exist.

She's breaking me slowly, just as precisely and painfully as I have broken her. She's bruised across her pale flesh, but my heart bears all the strain of an internalized conflict I don't know if I can resolve on my own.

Lowering my hands to the bathroom counter, I press my palms against the cool surface, although I know not even an ice bath over my entire body could chill this raging heat within.

I'm searching for control because I know when I open this door that my utter lack of composure must disappear. She's there, on my bed, wrapped in my sheets, waiting for me to comfort her.

I haven't prayed in nearly twenty years, but perhaps some devotion to a pure entity would divide this sickness from my bones. If only I could find my moral compass again, I'd have the direction to deny myself the soft curves of her body, the sweetness of her lips... the hot alcove between her legs. I've watched her become flushed and engorged with arousal as she's laid across my lap, even as she's cried with the force of my hand against her flesh, and those are the images that won't allow my mind to rest.

I want more. It's almost as if I need it.

A quiet moan escapes my mouth and I tear my hands from the counter in order to muffle the sound. My flesh is slightly cooled from the bathroom counter and I can feel how flushed my face is without even looking at the mirror. I don't need my own reflection to tell me that I've been completely compromised.

There will be no going back from this. This is the reality that I have birthed into existence, one I might not even escape should I be presented the chance and yet one I can hardly live with.

“Olivia?”

I gasp into my hands at the sound of her voice, small and inquiring through the door. I've been been gone too long and she needs me. Deep within my heart, I can feel myself becoming just as attached.

It's been mere weeks since the first time, but every day in between that has passed has written my desire for her submission so deeply into bones that it can't be erased. If I scrub down to the very marrow I won't have even scraped the surface of this longing. This is my fate, etched into the unyielding stone of my own existence.

“Olivia?” She calls again, the notes of her voice luring me from my self pity.

Pulling my hands from my face, I return, “Stay in bed, sweetie, I'll be right there.”

I can only hope that the quiver in my voice is indiscernible through the barrier of the door and space between us.

I finally glance up at the mirror to ensure that my expression is smoothed over, that only the nuances of my feelings that I want to show her are lying within my eyes.

She can't know that I desire more than I can ever have because if she does, I know she’ll fall to her knees at my command just as quickly as she falls to her own desires. I have seen the way she looks at me when she’s in my arms, felt her grasping me tight as if I am the only thing anchoring her. It terrifies me when she murmurs, “I’d float away into nothing without you.” Her soul is embedded into the palm of my hand, and, god, I want more than anything to close my fingers about her, to claim her as my own.

I’m shuddering deep inside, my throat swollen tight with emotion, and meeting my own gaze becomes increasingly hard. I can see the twist of my brows, denoting the war raging just behind the darkness of my widened eyes. My lips are taut against a tremble. I can’t show this to her.

Lowering my head once more, I rub my hands over my face, breathe out. With every ounce of my willpower, I shove my feelings down inside of myself, as far away from the oracle of my face as possible. I listen to myself breathe until until the tone of my inhales smoothes over, and the lengths of my exhales stretch into calmness.

When I finally deem myself ready, I don’t spare another glance towards the tortured women in the mirror.  I turn and grab the doorknob, branding confidence into my stance. Twisting the knob, I swing the door open and gaze out into the bedroom. My heart races shallowly, a dull pulse low in my groin as I find her in the darkness, but with some effort I find the measured calm between each labored throb.

Her pale flesh is a beacon to my eyes and every inch of her from the waist down is naked to my eyes. She's laid across the bed on her stomach, her arms cradling her face in my direction.

“I thought you weren't coming back.” She murmurs, her blue eyes glittering from beneath mussed strands of blonde hair. “I was worried I did something wrong.”

“No…” I return, softly, shaking my head. “You did nothing wrong.”

She licks her lips in a nervous motion when I don't move from my place in the bathroom doorway.

“I'm sorry…” She whispers in halting tone, her brow furrowing. “I know I was just here...I just…”

“Amanda.” I cut her off, shaking my head once more. “You don't need to apologize.”

“B-but..” She begins, stammering.

Pushing away from the doorway, I cross the room to her, and slide onto the mattress next to her.

The last thing I want is for her to become hysterical again, although the tears swimming in her eyes serve to dampen the arousal swirling in my stomach and I'm thankful for at least that.

“Relax.” I murmur, sliding my hand over her back and rubbing slowly. “You're safe here.”

She nods, her lids fluttering shut as she heaves a breath. Her face smooths out, like a placid pond only disturbed by a few ripples and I gaze upon her solace. She’s so soft and tender like this. There's hardly a sign of the barbed wire fence of defensiveness and cynicism that I have known her to erect so often about her heart. At one point in time I had feared to touch her, terrified of leaving with blood on my hands, but when she exposes this part of herself to me, my thoughts of self preservation are so far from me that they nearly cease to exist. When she's here with me I ache deeply with the singular desire for her, wholly and completely.

“Will you lay down with me?” She asks, her voice a sleepy mumble.

“Of course.” I whisper, barely concealing the choked tone of my voice as I slide my hand from her back to her cheek.

I smooth back the stray hairs from her temple and behind the curve of her ear, my fingers skimming her flesh. Even the slightest touch sears pleasure into my nerve endings and I barely hide the way my breath catches in my throat.  Ducking my head, I swallow against the yearning saliva that has gathered on my tongue. The sweetness of desire lingers across my taste buds, but I manage to hold it back behind my teeth as I shift against her.

Reclining onto the bed is a relief, though the new sense of relaxation allows my mind to concentrate more wholeheartedly on the things that come easily...Things like the warmth of her body, the innocent nudity of her lower body, her eyes searching for mine with an adoration I feel ashamed to receive.

I can hardly look at her as our bodies align, face to face. I remember seeing her distraught expression the very first night she confessed her desires to me and I wonder now if she can see the same ravenous need inside my eyes now. My thoughts of her are ever close, right on the verge of breaking surface, and I feel as if she must  _ know _ . What intuitive instinct lies inside her must have led her to the conclusion of my averted gazes, my tightly clenched fists, the pounding of my heart.

“Olivia…?” She murmurs, hesitantly, and I feel her touch me, gentle fingers against my neck and jaw.

I look up at her as my body shivers at the contact. I don't know what to say or how to say it. I don't know how to stop the tiny explosions of desire that ignite across my body at her mere presence.

“Is something wrong?” She whispers.

_ Yes! _ My mind screams at me.  _ Everything is wrong! _

I purse my lips against the words, silently enduring the intensity of her gaze upon my guiltily burning being for several more seconds before her fingers dip determinedly beneath my chin. Our gazes meet, and I feel the force of her blue eyes sucking me in like an open sky I'd give anything to throw myself into.

“I….” I begin, my voice a low rasp before I clear it. “Everything's fine.”

Her brows furrow slightly. She doesn't believe me, and why should she?

“Liv…” She breathes once more, pushing in closer to me.

Our noses nearly brush, and I draw a breath at her proximity. My hands nearly shake with the urge to grab her and pin her down to the mattress. I'd drag her arms above her head and ravish her mouth with all the desire that I've been holding back…. God knows I would've already done it had I thought it would end there. We've kissed before, both of us reckless in the heat of the moment, but it's never stood alone from the emotional bond we share when she lays across my knees. It's never been about me. I'd give all the world and more to care for her without a second thought to myself, but now she has me here, after the fact. The embers should be cooling, the blaze a gentle memory…but still I burn.

I reach up to grab her wrist, to take away the temptation of her flesh on mine but her fingers drag tight, short nails biting into my jaw and curling into my hair. I suck in a breath through clenched teeth as her body presses to mine, emitting a warmth that I want desperately to sink into.

“Don't lie.” She whispers, and I can hear the strain even in her softest tone.

I drag my face away, pressing my forehead to her chin. I can hear my heart rushing in my chest, crashing waves of heat continuously over my body. I'm throbbing even harder down below in the core of myself.

“What are you thinking?” She whispers, a tremble barely evident in her voice.

I squeeze down on her wrist, clenching my teeth against the urge to spill my desires upon her waiting ears.

Perhaps it would seem strange to anyone else that I imagine I have not already crossed a line with Amanda, but since that first night, I've realized there are many lines. The layers of our needs and desires for each other have split and multiplied, and when I stand a crossroads now, I see not only two paths, but dozens. With her pressed up against me, her hands touching me, it's clear which one calls to me.

Her fingers work beneath my taut chin once more, attempting to drag my eyes to hers. I resist at first, desperate to hide the stain of overwrought tears glazing my eyes, but she's insistent. Finally, I haltingly allow her to draw my face upwards. Her fingers grip my face, implying dominance for the first time since we've begun our confusing relationship. I let it happen. A part of me wants her to wring this truth from lips, whether through kindness or through brute strength. The guilt of my desires weighs upon me like a rock I wish I could heave from my chest.

“Just tell me.” She whispers, her voice quavering.

My throat tightens further as I recognize the hints of fear dancing through her eyes. Her first thought is that I will leave her when it's, in fact, the opposite.

“There's things, Amanda…” I whisper, my tone emitting low and gravelly. “Things my body and mind want…”

Her brows furrow slowly, and in the darkness, I can barely make out the motion of a hard swallow at her neck. Her fingers tighten against my jaw, and she's suddenly rigid against me, a stark comparison to her previous demeanor. The implications of my cryptic words and trembling tone are dawning upon her in the slow ascent of realization, and it terrifies me to see the understanding winding through her cerulean gaze.

“What are you talking about?” She returns, huskily, despite the light that has awakened inside her eyes. She's expected a different outcome, something much more than the failure that I struggle to admit.

“I think you know…” I manage to say above the emotion gripping my throat.

Her lips tighten, and she purses them slowly. I can almost feel the tremble in her fingers.

“I think it's what we both want.” I finish, clenching my fingers around her wrist once more.

How desperate I must be to push the blame onto both of our shoulders when she's only ever come to me with pure intentions. What guilt must consume me to involve her in the desanctification of our union. 

“Olivia…” She begins in a husky murmur, but I pull away, striving not to be so rough as to harm her, yet overwhelmed with the desire to escape.

I sit up from the bed and turn away from her, gripping the edge of the mattress. I can feel my heart racing in my ears while my stomach turns over again and again. I do not fear her rejection, but rather her acceptance of my unfettered fantasies.

She's quiet, and my throat knots at the thought of hurting her with my rash behavior. I lower my head, and my hair slips across my heated cheeks and forehead in a gracious curtain.

“Liv.” Amanda repeats, sitting up behind me.

It's strange to hear her strong, demanding tone in this setting when she usually leaves it outside the door in exchange for desperate cries and impassioned whispers, however, her unyielding inflection is nothing less than I deserve.  

I feel her touch my back, and I grimace against the urge to collapse at the simple contact. I draw a breath as her arm slips around my waist, dragging me close to her. She winds her other arm around my chest, locking me into an embrace that I don't have the strength or will to struggle away from.

“Tell me.” She utters in my ear, her breath warming my flesh in a wash of tingles.

Her command weakens me in even the strongest part of my bones, but I shake my head slowly, biting at my lip. She doesn't understand. I have gone to such lengths to be her protector, and now I would compromise it with selfish desires such as these?

“Olivia…” She murmurs, her tone barely ending in a moan of frustration as her arms tighten about me.

I feel her forehead press to my neck, then a moment later, her lips. I shudder at the warmth and softness imparted upon my ravenous being, a sweet caress which only feeds the beast inside me.

“Don't.” I choke out, turning my head away.

Her arms clinch about me once more, holding me back for every move that I would make away from her. She kisses me again, her lips parting slowly, achingly against my perspiring neck. I groan aloud, my body rigid and shivering against her.

“Amanda, please, stop.” I insist, my tone garbled with all the tell tale signs of desire.

I don't want her to stop; no, not at all.

Her fingers curl against my stomach, tugging at the material of my shirt. I shudder helplessly as she drags the hem away from my hips, baring my stomach to her fingers. The touch of her hand is like fire to my over sensitized body, and I nearly wrench away from her with a cry.

“I said don't lie.” She murmurs in my ear, and I can't tell whether she's angry, sad, or aroused. I'm not sure which would matter more in this moment.

“Amanda…” I pant, swallowing against tears that sting my eyes.

“Tell me.” She repeats again as her hand slips beneath my shirt, dragging upwards until she's cupping my breast.

Her hand is warm, searing me with molten heat. My body sings with desire, rising to the tune of her hands dancing across my skin. My nipple is rigid and taut in a matter of seconds, prodding at her palm in a wordless plea.

Amanda breathes heavily in my ear, her fingers squeezing down slowly on my breast.

“Jesus, Olivia…” She rasps, sounding utterly shocked at the vivacious response of my body.

“God, please…” I whisper, attempting to pull away once more. “Just please...let me go.”

She seems to hesitate before finally, her hands slip away. I push up from the bed as soon as I'm free, though my legs are weakened from her touch. I wobble away, spreading my hands over my face as I attempt to breathe. I can feel the tremble in my fingers and my skin still burns from her gentle fondling. If I thought I ached before, the insistent pounding of my groin is nothing compared to the clench and shiver of my body now.

“I thought you wouldn't want this.” Amanda's voice shatters the panicked loop of thoughts circling my brain, ending the violent flurry in one simple sentence.

I freeze in the middle of the room, my heart stilling for half a second before taking off again. My hands slip weakly from my face though I don't turn to look at her.

“What….?” I whisper, hoping against hope that she means something else; that she's misconstrued my scattered signals.

“I thought we'd both be satisfied….” She continues.

The bed creaks and I sense her approaching me. I clench my fingers into fists at my sides, steeling myself against the power of her touch once more.

“You’ve done so much for me.” She whispers as she nears me. “You’ve given me your everything. You've taken care of me…”

Her fingers touch my back, skimming lightly between my shoulder blades and down my spine, awakening a path of goosebumps there.

“I would do whatever you wanted...whatever you ask of me…” She says softly, so reverently that my knees quake.

“I can't…” I return, arching away from the seducing trail of her fingertips.

I can't think of accepting her devotion in this way. I can't tarnish the purity of this relationship that I have worked so hard to cherish with unadulterated love and care. She should remain as she has been to me in the previous weeks - a sweet, but lost child in need of direction and protection. I cannot fall to these lows of manipulation, spurred on by such a base, wretched lust.

“Olivia…” Amanda says, touching my arm gently. “I could never be worthy of you, but I could try…”

“Stop.” I order, holding up both my hands as I spin towards her. “You...you are more than worthy.”

She halts, her lips parted. Her lids flutter quickly as if she is shocked by my exclamation. It devastates me to imagine that she thinks so little of herself, and I wish I could make her understand.

“That's the problem.” I finish in a whisper, grabbing her upper arms, if only to hold myself back from her. “I couldn't possibly put myself in a position to hurt you or demean you…”

“B-but…” She stutters, her brows furrowing. “I'd do anything…”

“I know.” I moan, softly, lowering my eyes from her pleading expression. “Amanda….please forgive me…”

“I don't want to.” She replies, her voice rising. “I want to give you what you want.”

She pulls away from me, detaching her arms from my grip in one rough yank. She turns towards the bed and folds down onto the sheets, collapsing into a distraught puddle, facedown. Her head is turned away from me, but she clutches the pillow against her head, visibly upset by my refusal.

I watch her, cycling through various emotions that range from helpless, to sad, to frustrated. I know her well, and I cannot allow her tactic of manipulating my actions through my desire to see her happy move me.

“There's some things in this life that we can't have no matter how much we want them, Amanda.” I finally say, stepping closer to the bed. “This is one of them.”

“Is doesn't have to be.” She returns, spitefully, into the pillow.

“It's much more complicated than what we have now.” I murmur, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Why?” She asks, sharply, her tone threatening tears.

“Because…” I whisper, reaching out to touch her back. “I wouldn't force you to do anything, or make any type of quid pro quo arrangement. I'm here because I want to be. You don't owe me anything.”

She's quiet for a long moment, though I know her mind is turning. The longer she silently lies there, the higher my anxiety rises. Amanda is stubborn and willful and I doubt that my simple denial will dampen her determination.

Finally, she pushes up from the bed and spins towards me. I'm ready to defend my words, but instead she flings herself upon me, clambering onto my lap before I can stop her. Her fingers twist into my hair, wrenching a gasp from my lips as the warmth of her body engulfs me.

“Amanda -” I begin to protest, but her mouth is coming down on mine, swallowing what cries I offer.

I grab at her arms and waist in an attempt to stop her, but she rocks against me, weakening my limbs, momentarily. Her fingers are harsh in my hair, holding my face to hers in an unmoving grip. She sucks at my lower lip, priming mouth open with desirous strokes of her tongue. The sweetness of her saliva blooms across my taste buds with heady rushes, leaving my mind spinning. The heat coiling in my groin expands sharply, ready to implode at the smallest coax.

Having her against me is a torture I can hardly stand, and now with her kiss fresh upon my mouth, I want to scream. The bare threads of my self control groan beneath the weight of her kisses and half naked body, and when she presses her tongue deep between my teeth, I can feel the very moment when they all snap at once.

With a low growl, I grab her and spin her towards the mattress. I thrust us down across the rumpled sheets, pinning her beneath me. She gasps against my mouth, her fingers weakening in my hair. In her moment of shock, I slide my hands up her arms and drag them down against the mattress, shackling her hands above her head in the iron grip of my wrists.

Finally I pull back, hovering above her on a tenuous tightrope of resistance. She stares back at me, her breath blasting from between her teeth in heavy pants. Her chest is heaving tautly with them, but her legs are bent and spread across my thighs in a lax display of submission. I hardly allow myself to gaze downwards, though it takes everything within me not to sink down between her creamy thighs and take her dripping pussy in my mouth.

“Stop.” I whisper, viciously, giving her arms a shake.

“Why?” She hisses, undulating her hips slowly against me.

I close my eyes, clenching my jaw tightly. Behind the blackened veil of my lids, my deepest desires taunt me, flashing images of what could be across my wanton gaze. I clench my fingers tighter around her wrists, grasping at what little self control I have left.

Finally, I pull back, releasing her wrists. I sit back on my heels, watching her rigidly. She hardly moves, returning my gaze with the plush pout of her reddened lips. Nearly a minute passes, though I still feel as if I can't move.

At last, she drags one arm from above her head, and I watch with growing dread as she slips her hand down her stomach to her the soft, blonde mound at her crotch. Her fingers stretch across her flushed lips before dipping in. Her moan shatters my immobility and I grab her hand, pulling her fingers sharply from herself.

“Stop.” I rasp once more, holding her moistened fingers aloft.

Her gaze hardly wavers from mine as she moves her other hand, determined to push every limit I have so clearly outlined. I don't let her hand reach her groin this time, catching her wrist halfway down. Holding both of her arms, I yank her up into a sitting position, bringing us face to face.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” I whisper, sharply.

“Or what?” She demands, her arctic, blue eyes searing me from beneath shocks of blonde bangs.

Before I can reply, she lunges in, roughly aligning our lips in an attempt to kiss me once more. I don't dwell on the warmth of her mouth as I push her back, knocking her onto her back once more. I pin her arms to the mattress and drag my leg over her thigh, effectively holding her down.

“If you can't listen to me, you'll give me no choice.” I say in a hushed tone.

Our faces are bare centimeters apart and I can see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. I can't let it sway me.

“What do you mean?” She whispers.

“I will end this.” I vow, though my voice quavers. “Completely.”

Her brows tighten, and I can see the tears swell quickly in her eyes in one single rush of emotion. It pains me greatly to consider retracting my part in this relationship and to know that she will suffer because of it; but I would rather see her suffer than to exploit her.

“There has to be boundaries, Amanda.” I insist, but she's already looking away from me.

A tear slips down the curve of her nose and I can see her lips quivering, but she's finally stopped fighting. Her limbs are limp beneath me, but I don't trust her enough to let her go quite yet.

“Look at me.” I whisper.

Her jaw clenches, and she stares steadily off towards the wall, refusing to meet my command. I release one wrist in order to grab her face.

The time for her to take my confession is over. I can bear my own penance in silence, and she must accept that her part in this relationship is one of submission. She's trusted me to make the right decision for both of us, and no amount of crying or kicking and screaming will change what I've decided now.

“I don't want to hurt you, Amanda.” I say firmly as I bring her gaze to mine. “But I cannot accept this.”

She stares back at me, eyes watery and red, jaw jutting and quivering. I'd hold her if she cries, but I can't release her until she accepts what I'm saying.

“Do you understand me, sweetie?” I ask, hoping that she will soften beneath the tender endearment, but when she pulls her jaw from my touch, I know I won't get the answer I want.

When she speaks, her voice is rough, “I understand….But I  _ don't _ accept it.”

And looking back into her pained, aching gaze I think that maybe she speaks for the yearning of both of our hearts, minds, and souls. I don't blame her. If I blame anyone, it's myself.

“I'm going to fix this.” I murmur, reaching out to softly touch her cheek. “I promise…”


	2. Chapter 2

_ Amanda _

Promises are irrelevant. I've been promised many things in life, and rarely have they been delivered upon. Promises are only words blasted from a desperate person's mouth in the heat of a moment when all other forms of manipulation have failed. Promises are baseless claims that could change in the blink of an eye, whether through a distinct decision or out of an uncontrollable circumstance. Either way, promises have never been set in stone for me, and never will be.

It's not that I don't take the passion behind Olivia's words to heart, but rather that I don't see any course of action which could rectify the situation. I very much believe in the conviction lying inside her deep, obsidian gaze, but even she is not infallible….That fact is quite obvious now. I know she would move an entire mountain for me if she could, but she simply can't. And now we have come to this conclusion, this moment I thought we would never meet, and it is here again that her power falls short. Her strength of will is unflinching, but there are some things that even she can not change. The color of the sky is still blue, the world still spins at a 23.5 degree angle, and I am still deeply and irreversibly in love with her.

I didn't mean for this to happen, though a part of me sensed it would. I've never been good at controlling myself around my deepest desires, and when I made Olivia privy to them, I opened a door which I could not close - and one I have not wanted to close since that first night. A naive part of me thought that I could separate out my need for her domination from the swooning of my heart at her very presence. I thought that my lonely isolation could be fed by the same offering to my therapeutic needs. I thought it would be enough. Not once, however, did I imagine that she would feel the same.

I might've been able to hold onto my growing desires for more than just her control over me, but now the bell cannot be unrung. She cannot take back her words, and now the sounds of my desires are singing across the landscape of our union as loud and demanding as a church bell’s peal.

I've spent the past 24 hours listening to the echos in the chamber of my own mind, wrestling between the pain of rejection and the burn of desire. I know she wants what I want. I saw the truth of that fact winding through her every gaze and movement, and yet she denies herself. She denies me.

Rejection is never easy to accept, and though I may have no choice - despite my emboldened words - I can not change the aching of my heart. Perhaps it is not the physical act of sex that I want so much as for her to admit the ardent, burning feelings that comprise such lust.

She held me the rest of the night, but since I've left her apartment, we've barely exchanged a word. The hollowness that that feeling creates inside me is startling and painful, only cementing the fact that if I must live with this cavern of emptiness for the rest of our relationship, then I am more doomed than before this began. Having her so close and so far away is a more hurtful concept than what I imagined all those weeks ago when I convinced myself that her position as caretaker would be enough.

The day is coming to a close and despite being in the same building and vicinity for the majority of the day, I feel miles away from her. A mere glance towards her office from my desk in the squad room assures me that she's still close enough to reach, but it does nothing to salve the wounds across my heart.

I've been shattered before - broken, let down, put down, given up on, violated… but nothing is comparable to this feeling. Maybe it hurts so much because I expected her to fix all these things, to wipe away even the deepest scars. My existence hangs upon her long, olive fingers, a pathetic mess kissing her feet in penance. What I'd give to be there just one more time before I destroy what's left us.

I'm staring at my desk, leg bouncing. My fingers are laced in front of me, clenched so tightly that my knuckles blanch white. I want so badly to go to her, to close the space and find some way to break through this wall she's created between us, but fear is knot in my throat. Despite the past few hours seeming like days, I can't imagine one single rise and fall of the sun could change anything in her mind. I don't want to make a fool of myself, especially here, but I'm desperate, clinging to a hope that may not even exist.

The minutes tick by, slow and torturous. I can see the hand of my watch slowly making it's way from the 5 to the 10 to the 20… I can feel each second slipping from my fingers with the knowledge that she too could be escaping my grasp. I've spent the day riddled with anxiety, but as the minutes count down, I'm gripped with an even stronger feeling of desperation - the feeling that if I let this day wane into nothing without a resolution that she will slip away from me for good.

My heart is racing in my chest as I finally rise from my desk. My palms are sweating as I turn towards her office. I can see her through the blinds, head bent, glasses perched on her nose. She could be deep in thought or she could just be pretending like I am.

I clench my hands into fists at my side as the thought that I must do  _ something  _ races though my brain once more. I cannot sit idly by and allow her to cut herself off from me.

Ducking my chin, I march towards the office before I can lose my ire. I charge right up to the door and find myself breathing loud, raspy breaths as I finally waver. I hesitate for a moment before I lift my hand and knock quickly. Through the blinds I see her head rise. Our eyes meet through the glass, and her brow furrows. She lifts a hand and motions for me to come in, but I can see the conflict written across her face.

_ Here goes nothing.  _ I think as I grab the doorknob and press inside.

The blinds rattle softly behind me while the click of the door closing signals the finality of my decision. I'm here and I can't go back now.

“What's up, Rollins?” She asks, arranging some files on her desk in a uniform stack.

“It's not about work. You can drop the formality.” I say, stepping forward

Her gaze flicks to mine over the frame of her glasses, and she reaches up to slide them from her face. She folds them slowly and precisely, and I sense that she understands the meaning of my presence.

“If it's not about work then we shouldn't discuss it here.” She replies at last.

“No.” I shake my head, rushing in closer to the desk. “I'm sick of waiting on you to acknowledge me.”

“Amanda.” She says, frowning. “I'm not ignoring you, and I'm not sure what's made you think that.”

“What do you mean?” I demand, spreading my hands. “You've hardly looked at me all day.”

“Amanda…” She repeats my name and for once I wish she would stop saying it.

“What?” I ask, cutting her off.

Her brows raise slightly and she sits back with a scoff. “You know as well as I do that I cannot be partial to you in any way when we are here. Not even in the slightest.”

“I'm not asking you to… I just want you to realize that…I need you…” I say in a quieter tone. “All the time…”

Her expression shifts, and I can see the strain in every nuance of her eyes. She leans forward, her fingers folding tightly in front of her.

“This isn't a conversation for the office, Amanda.” She says, her voice nearly a whisper.

“No?” I reply, stepping around the desk.

She watches me, her shoulders stiffening as I reach her side. She turns the chair towards me as I come to stand in front of her, our knees nearly touching.

“I need you.” I whisper. “Right here...right now.”

Her brows furrow tightly, and she replies, huskily, “What do you mean?”

I hold her gaze as I grab the edge of the desk and slide down in front of her. Once I'm on my knees, I reach out and touch her hand.

“I need you.” I repeat.

Her expression is a mix of shock and desire, and her fingers tighten in my embrace.

“I can take you home.” She whispers. “I can take care of you -”

“No.” I cut her off. “I don't want to go home.”

“Amand-”

“Stop.” I snap, sharply, forcing her hand closer.

Her eyes flash at my violent movement, her arm going rigid against my opposite pull.

I know I'm pushing boundaries. It's never been a clearly spoken rule, but I've never doubted that I would be met with harsh reprimand if I ever disrespected her, in this office or inside her bedroom. Now, I almost hope she'll carry through, that she'll just reach out and slap my mouth, that she'll pull my down and punish me. I want her to become so overwrought that she'll snap.

“Amanda, don't.” She breaths through gritted teeth, as if she is holding onto the final tethers of this facade of professionalism. “I can't do this here.”

“You could if you wanted.” I insist, desperate to break her just as she has broken me. “You could do lots of things if you wanted.”

Finally, she reacts, snatching her hand from mine, and using it to grab my face. I gasp as her fingers clench around my jaw and she pulls me close. Her fingers are close to my pulse, nearly trembling, and my whole being rushes with exhilaration. My brain is chanting  _ yes, yes, yes  _ to the rhythm of our harsh exhales. She's so close I can see every nuance of her darkened gaze, and the intensity of that gaze bleeds the strength from my bones.

Her voice is low when she speaks, “Believe me, honey, I want to do lots of things to you, but you're setting yourself up for a world of hurt right now.”

I shiver beneath the taut clinch of fingers, my body responding with titillated goosebumps. I've finally managed to wrench a response out her, one that may earn me a biting punishment, but one that may also get her hands on my body. At this point, I don't care how she touches me. I just want her.

“Do it.” I whimper, clutching at her thighs.

I'm pathetic, but I'd rather die than leave this room without the touch of her hand. My body is thrumming with even the slightest brush of her fingers and her grip on my face only pushes the tide higher inside of me.

She stares back at me, reticent and smoldering for several long seconds, forcing a whine of impatience between my lips. She can't hesitate, not now.

I slide my hand up her thigh, determinedly making my way up between her legs. It doesn't matter whether I get there or not. All I want is her reaction.

She stiffens against me as my fingers push up against her groin, then tuck beneath her body to cup her. Her grasp on my jaw tightens even further, and her gaze ducks away from mine. I can see her profile, taut and conflicted through strands of hair that slip across her cheek. My heart races in my chest, uncontrollably, with the rush of adrenaline at how far I've pushed her. Emboldened, I flex my fingers, rubbing one directly across her through her pants. I moan softly because I can feel the heat radiating from within her and the moisture that is already seeping through the layers of her clothing. She's achingly silent, though I can feel the scream developing in her chest by the way her lips part wordlessly.

Grabbing her thigh with my other hand, I press her legs apart and drag my fingers harder over her. If not for her pants, I would've already fucked my fingers into her, and the thought of that clenches my body with orgasmic like shudders.

“Amanda…” She finally manages to speak, her voice emitting raspy and low. “Stop…”

“Make me…” I murmur.

I'm circling my fingers against her through the cloth, massaging her open to the persistent touch of my hand, and I can feel her shivering against me. I wonder if she will come from the simple friction of my fingers through the clothing, and the  mere thought nearly derails the unwavering movement of my hand.

“Oh...god…” She whispers, arching against me.

Her fingers slip from my chin into my hair, wrenching tight as she ducks her head against mine. With her forehead pressed to my temple I can feel the warmth of her breath rushing over my cheek and ear with her every exhale.

“Amanda…” She repeats in a groan. “No…”

My senses prick with sharp arousal at her quietly voiced plea. She's on the edge, and I know if I keep pushing that she'll fall. Damn the consequences...I want her more than life itself.

She groans through clenched teeth, and I feel her grab at my arm. Her fingers are quaking as they squeeze around my wrist to deter me from touching her. I don't stop though I know I should. I'm flirting with the fine line of consent, a dangerous game to play with Olivia, especially here in this office.

When I push my hand in again, she finally finds strength. Her fingers wrench tight around my wrist, and she pulls me back sharply by the fistful of hair that she claimed earlier. I cry out at the pain that washes over my scalp, but I wouldn't dare to try to escape her.

When our eyes meet, hers are dark, filled with a plethora of contentious emotions that I can't quite discern before she says in low tone, “I said stop, Amanda.”

“I said make me.” I return, spitefully, yanking against her hold on me.

Just one day ago I would've never even contemplated behaving in such a manner towards her for fear of admonishment, but now it's all I can do not to throw myself down in offering. She's driven me to this edge again and again, and now she would take from me what we both want most. I don't think I can bear the torture of her absence from inside me any longer.

If I must take the lashings for it then so be it.

“This is what you want... isn't it?” She whispers, incredulous.

“Yes…” I whimper.

She leans back slowly before abruptly releasing me. My swaying frame languishs back onto the floor as she rises. Her hands are clenched at her sides as she hovers over me for a moment. I slide back onto my heels, making myself small at her feet, but she turns away. I watch her, my heart throbbing in my chest as she rounds the desk and walks towards the row of windows overlooking the squad room. She stands there for a torturous minute before she reaches up and flips the blinds closed. The implication of the action sears sharp anticipation through my stomach, and I swallow hard. She moves to the next window, then the next with calm, unhurried motions until the rest of the world is unbeknownst to the two of us inside this room.

Impetuous arousal laces my veins as she turns towards me, her face veiled in austere resolve.

“Stand up.” She says, softly, as she strides slowly back towards the desk.

I'm quivering inside and out as I grab the edge of the desk, and drag myself upright. My knees sway beneath me as I clench the desk in both hands. My eyes never leave her until she circles around behind me. I heave a breath at her proximity as she stands close against my backside. I feel her hand at my hip, slowly sliding around to my stomach. I hang my head, panting as I watch her long fingers deftly tug at my belt buckle. She pulls it open with a firm pull, and detaches my holster and weapon from hip, placing it carefully on the desk.

“If this is what you want…” She murmurs, “this is what you'll get.”

I gasp softly as she wraps a hand around my belt and yanks it from the loops. My stomach is churning, heart fluttering, and her leisurely pace makes me want to scream. Her very words work hot affliction upon my aching being, and through my swollen core. Without a doubt she means to torture me for what I've just done to her, and, God Almighty, she isn't failing yet.

Gritting my teeth against a whimper, I watch as she thumbs open the button of my pants and drags the zipper down. The little metal teeth scratch loudly against my ears, nearly shattering my self control. I press my eyes shut, hardly able to watch as her fingers tuck beneath the waistband of my pants and underwear. My hips sway to her tugging motions until the air greets my naked flesh. My pants slide down my thighs, followed by my panties, tumbling from one curve to the next.

“Olivia…” Her name finally slips from lips in the form of a whine.

I don't mean to beg with her, but I can't stop the rash vocalization at her tormentingly slow motions. I've meant to break her, not the other way around. I damn her everlasting patience and her ability to control herself even the face of my seduction. If it were anyone else we wouldn't even be here, but I don't want anyone and she wouldn't be my Olivia if she acted any differently.

“Hush.” She murmurs in my ear as her fingers trail across my bare hip. “You're getting what you want, aren't you?”

Her words are a damning tease, and I shudder beneath the sharp edged utterance. A pulsing throb unfurls between my legs at even the slightest caress of her fingers, a gentle preamble to what pain lies beyond her husky promises. What cynicism I've reserved towards her unsubstantiated vows has fled in the face of her unwavering actions. There's no false pretext here when my pants are around my knees and my belt is in her hand.

Her hand slides up my ribs, her thumb following the curve of my spine until her hand is pressing between my shoulder blades with a demanding pressure. She needs not speak the command when my submission is a clearly defined role, and when I sink down against the cool, smooth surface of the desk, her satisfaction is low hum in the air.

My fingers seek the edges of the desk, grasping for purchase as she asserts a dominating hand against my lower back. I can feel the sweat forming beneath my shirt, gathering in hot marshes beneath my arms and between my breasts and shoulder blades. The intensity of her silence and drawn out motions push my blood pressure to the point of racing, swirling my stomach into a tumultuous, rolling wave. My entire body is thrumming and aching and she's hardly begun.

I gasp softly when I feel the leather of the belt drag against my naked flesh, a mere fraction of what she'll bring upon me. I want to cry to her just to do it, to break me down into nothing with the force of punishment. I can already feel the sting of tears in my eyes because I feel so overwhelmed by the emotions raging in my heart and body. Each sensation is a tidal wave, every second a hurricane.

The belt slithers away from my flesh, leaving me achingly bereft for what feels like minutes though I know it's bare seconds.

The first strike is a slap against my backside, only enough to cause tingles, yet I moan. Her fingers tighten over my shirt and I wonder how hard her pulse is throbbing, how wet and gushing she is down below. I can feel my own body churning with a heat that she has only fanned since I've stepped inside this office.

I hardly move as my entire body clenches on the edge of anticipation. My breath is caught in my throat until she lashes me again, a harder motion that jars me. I choke over a gasp, my fingers clenching over the edges of the desk as the pain burns into layers of my flesh in sharp pin pricks.

My heart races knowing she is only using a fraction of her strength. I've laid beneath the burning judgement of her hand enough times to know that she can bruise me as she pleases. I've woken enough times to the splotches of purple and blue to know that she can shatter me in minutes.

If I am in over my head I can't bring myself to care. I'll endure as much as she deigns necessary if only she'll realize her desire isn't something separate from our union, but rather integral to it.

I turn my head into the desk as she spanks me again, the sound of it cracking in my ears. My body clenches against the pain and I release a low moan, shivering. My flesh is burning, but the ache between my legs is more insistent.

“You don't know…” I whimper, biting at my lip.

“Don't know what?” She asks, her tone low and thick with evident desire.

“How many times I've touched myself for you.” I return in a raspy whisper.

Her fingers clench against my back, and she doesn't utter a word. Pleasure singes my veins at the thought of shocking her with vivid images of my legs spread apart, my fingers thrust between them in ardent pleasure.

I turn my head to glance over my shoulder at her. Her face is ducked away from me, her shoulders taut as she bends over me. I can see the smallest tremble shuddering through her, and I bite my lip, waiting for her to snap.

Finally, she lifts her head, staring back at me from beneath furled, dark brows. Her jaw and lips are tight as she lifts the belt and adjusts her fingers around the folded leather.

“You'll tell me if it's too much.” She orders, low and husky.

“Don't stop.” I reply in a whisper, staring back her with a hooded gaze.

She won't break me. Not tonight.

Her small nostrils flare for a moment, her jaw working before she turns away.

When the belt strikes me this time, there's no hesitance. The punishment burns across my flesh with a sharp ache that forces me to lunge against the desk. My whole body arches and I hardly contain a cry, but she doesn't linger now. A second lashing falls across my vulnerable bottom with an even harsher blow.

“Ohhhh….” I moan, my fingers clawing across the smooth wood.

I'm shivering, all my muscles pulled tight in reaction, but even now I can't stop the throbbing between my legs. I must be dripping now. I can feel the moisture staining my thighs and the swollen ache of my pussy. I pant and whimper as I wonder if I could come without her even touching me.

When she belts me again I nearly scream from the combination of pain and arousal. My hips jar into the desk and I hear a screech as the metal feet inch across the floor with the force of my flailing. She grabs onto my hip, and pulls me back sharply, aligning my squirming hips for another burning punishment. Crying out, I slam my fist into the desk, overwrought by the inundation of sensations through my body.

The pain is evident in my mind but nothing can distract from the pulsing of my sex. I'm clinching tight over and over, swelling and gushing in pre orgasmic shudders. The ravenous desire for her fingers slamming into me is overwhelming, so much so that I could cry. I'm gasping and moaning,  _ praying _ she’ll break to the sound of my desires.

I can hear her panting, her body giving off waves of heat that I know are much more than the overexertion of belting me. If I could plunge my hand between her legs, I know I'd return with her wetness on my fingers.

I said I wouldn't break, but as the pain and pleasure overtake me, I realize there's more than one way to do just that.

I tear my hand from the edge and shove it between my body and the desk. When my fingers touch my pussy, I can feel the abundance of arousal gushing from me, causing me to moan. My fingers are trembling as I shove them into my own body with barely a priming caress. The thought that she'll stop me just as she did last night doesn't enter my mind because I am so set on climax. I cry out as I clench my fingers inside myself, pushing against my swollen g-spot. I know it won't take much…

“Amanda…” Olivia's voice is low hum beyond the buzz of desire in my ears.

I moan a trembling cry as I thrust my fingers hard, chasing after the abandon of release with a singular focus. That she'll punish me harder after this is a far away consequence that hardly concerns me in the heat of this moment. If she makes me kneel down at her feet on the floor I would willingly take it for the satisfaction of the oncoming orgasm.

“Amanda, stop.” She orders, her tone shaken by my sudden display of self pleasure.

The distinct fantasy of her putting her own fingers in next to mine forces a moan to my lips and a shudder to my limbs. I'm already shaking with the pleasure so close, and the tiniest image of her touching me is only gasoline to this rapidly burning fire.

She grabs onto me as if to stop me, but she's far too late. The climax has already begun to draw my body tight and her fingers clenching down on my body is enough to send me spiraling over the edge.

A scream lodges in my throat as I go rigid in pleasure. She seems to freeze in tandem with me as I feel the orgasm locking down tight in the pit of my stomach. With a sharp tug, the tethers of my control tear apart, sending me shattering into a million pieces. I arch into the desk in an involuntary thrust, and I hear the high pitched whine of my own voice as the orgasm rips through my insides. I'm shuddering, moaning, crying as the waves of pleasure peak inside me again and again as if the incoming tide will never recede.

When I finally slump against the desk, my body is trembling with the aftermath. My arms and legs feel weak and useless beneath me though my body steadily throbs. I want to lift my head to look back at Olivia but I can barely breathe much less move.

She moves away from me and when she comes into my line of sight, her back is turned. She silent, achingly silent.

I try to drag myself upright with weakened arms. Hair is matted against my cheek, a layer of sweat covering my body. I must look like a damn mess, but I don't care that the squad room is just outside or that a walk of shame still awaits me. I need her to understand the extent of my need for her.

“Olivia…” I whisper as I grab at my pants.

She turns quickly and her brows are furrowed deeply, her lips trembling. She's angry, but I notice the shimmer in her arms. She's reached her limits just as I have, and yet she stands away from me, untouched.

“You haven't listened to a word I've said.” She finally says, her tone emitting from between clenched teeth.

“No.” I respond, slowly, “I haven't….”

She marches back to the desk and sits down in the chair. Her hands are folded tightly in front of her, her jaw drawn tight.

“Get out of my sight.” She whispers, harshly, at last, her eyes trained on some indeterminate place across the room.

My heart falls at her words. The pleasure that so recently flooded my veins sours in the pit of my stomach and I feel the tears sting my eyes.

I grab at my pants once more and yank them about my hips. My hands tremble as I zip and button, fumbling with the tasks as my vision blurs.

I expected anger. I expected another lashing, but maybe this hurts more.

I turn away before she can notice the tears rushing to my lids, fighting for escape. I rush towards the door, my head bent, though even now I hope to hear her voice calling after me.

All I hear is silence. Deafening, damning silence.


	3. Chapter 3

 

_ Amanda _

When I awake the next morning my mouth is a dry landscape of ill-tasting remnants of last night’s drink, the three bottles of beer I managed to down before crashing. Opening my eyes causes an ache to resound through my brain, and I roll slowly onto my back with a groan.

_ You fucking idiot. _ I think to myself as I glance down at yesterday’s clothing, wrinkled and twisted around my body.

I’m a fucking mess, hungover, unshowered, and completely unprepared for the day ahead of me. Glancing over at the clock, I'm pierced by shards of dread at the damning digits. On top of everything else, I’ve overslept, and after last night’s events, Liv isn’t going to be giving me any latitude whatsoever.

Despite the late hour, I feel little motivation to rise from the bed and rush into work as I typically would. I roll slowly into a sitting position on the side of the bed and rub my hands over my face. I’m not even trying to scramble to create some kind of excuse.

_ This is all her fault. _ I think, staring down at the floor between my knees.

I know I antagonized her last night, but I think we both know by now that I need her in ways that most people wouldn’t even begin to understand. Without her, I feel lost, achingly empty, a hollow chamber of uneven, disorganized thoughts, frivolous vices, and illogical decisions. Her denial to have me completely as her own has sent me into a tailspin, and I can’t stop my head from twirling with the singular desire for her to take me in the most physical, visceral way that I can imagine. It’s her fault because she promised to take control of me, to guide me when I can’t find the way on my own.

Rising slowly from the bed, I drag myself towards the bathroom. I should at least brush my teeth, and bathe myself, although I’m tempted to show her this pathetic display. If I thought it might change something I wouldn’t even walk into that building today, but the silent protest isn’t a tactic I dare use. I’ve already forced her into one punishment, and pushing her in that way again might only break my ass instead of her.

I barely look at myself as I scrub the toothbrush over my teeth, half-heartedly, before tossing my clothes to the floor. It’s not the most satisfying shower I’ve ever had, but I suppose that at least my co-workers won’t be able to smell the booze on me.

I’m towel drying when I hear a sharp knock on my door, causing my heart to jump. I still, straining my ears to make certain that it was my door that was being knocked on. When the sound comes again, I wrap the towel around my body, and emerge from the bathroom with a confused frown. Maybe Fin or Carisi got worried enough to come check on me when I didn’t show up for work.

When I reach the door, I peer through the peephole, and my heart clenches in my chest when I see my lieutenant outside the door instead of one of my fellow detectives. I step back from the door, clutching the towel together in a knot against my chest. My pulse has spiked, a mixture of confusion and anxiety winding through me. The smallest spark of hope holds a wavering flame inside my chest, but a quick recollection of the night before quashes that warmth quickly enough.

“Amanda?” I hear her voice through the door, and I jump at the third knock.

I wrestle with the deadbolt with my one free hand, and manage to yank the door open enough to look out at her. I feel vulnerable in the sheer covering of the towel as I peek out at her.

She’s standing close to the door, dressed in a long, black trench coat. Her hair is pulled back in an untidy bun at the nape of her neck and I notice the lack of makeup on her face. My racing thoughts slow as I wonder if she had her own version of a rough night after our encounter in the office.

“Amanda.” She repeats as we come face to face, her brows drawing into a frown.

“I know.” I say, opening the door a little wider. “I’m late.”

Her gaze flickers with something I can’t quite put a finger on before she says, “Let me in.”

My throat tightens at her command though I don’t think to deny her for a moment. I want her close to me despite my anxiety over her presence on my doorstep. I would willingly take any contact between us at this point, whatever she is willing to offer - or take.

I step aside, my fingers trembling around the towel as she enters my apartment. Her presence seems to take up every inch of space inside the small room, sucking the air straight from my lungs. I feel small and insignificant as I press the door shut behind us and lean against it, watching her with a hesitant gaze. Emotion has it’s claws in my chest as I watch her slowly pace to the middle of the room, quiet, yet commanding as always. Her very aura demands my attention, and I wouldn’t dare take my eyes off of her.

She turns slowly, and her hands are clasped in front of her, her posture tense.

“I’m not going to leave you, Amanda.” She says at last.

My throat wrenches tighter, and I sag against the door. My knees are trembling as relief spills through my bloodstream. I want to believe her words are as good as they seem though I sense a list of conditions will follow her commitment. I want more than anything to acquiesce to whatever she puts upon me, but I know better. I know the straying of my heart, the desires that will lead us right back here.

“I said if you pursued this that I’d end our… relationship.” She says slowly, her voice low with the strain of emotion. “I spent last night thinking that I’d have to.”

I reach back to hold onto the doorknob while my other hand trembles around the towel. Tears hover at my lids despite her promise not to leave me, however, I’d only be naive to think that she’d throw herself into an intimate relationship in only one night.

“I’ll be honest…” She continues, turning towards the window and walking slowly towards it. “I was angry. I was frustrated. I thought…. If she can’t obey me or trust me then why are we here?”

I feel my feet slip against the hardwood, and I want to sink to the ground, collapse beneath the weight of her presence and her reprimand. I barely hold myself upright as she pulls the curtain aside, spilling soft light across her her upturned face.  

“I thought….how can I call myself caretaker when I want so many things for myself?” Her voice dips into a harsh whisper, and she turns her face away from me, her fingers clutching the curtain. “You obedience is mine to judge, but not your desires, Amanda….How could I when my own have been so…..”

She bows her head, her expression taut as her voice trails away into the silence of our shared understanding. I watch her struggle to contain herself for several moments before the rash emotion finally peaks in my chest.

My utter frustration of her self denial pushes me from the door as I burst out, “B-but I need you.”  Rushing to her side, I grasp her arm with both hands, pleading, “I need  _ this _ …”

She turns her face towards mine, and I can see the tight draw of her brows, her lips clenched against the emotion that barely glimmers in her eyes. Just as I was the first night she confessed to me, I am shaken by the force of her desires for me. I don’t feel worthy of such devotion, and yet I want so much to reach out and accept it.

“I take the responsibility for last night.” She finally says, her tone strengthening as I watch her eyes harden. “I should never have let it go so far. I made the wrong decision, and for that I apologize.”

“B-but…”I begin to stutter, to somehow contradict her despite her unwavering gaze. “I want to give everything to you…”

She ducks her head quickly at my offering, and I can see her jaw clenching. She breathes out, slowly, before she turns away from the window, taking her arm from my grip.

“You have half an hour to get to work before I write you up.” She states, marching towards the door, her shoulders squared, her coat billowing behind her.

“Olivia…” I whimper, trailing after her.

My pleas fall on deaf ears as she pulls the door open, and exits in a rush of cold New York air and the lingering scent of her perfume. The door slams behind her, leaving me alone with only the four walls of my apartment to listen to my cries.

**xxxx**

 

_ Olivia _

_ Write me up. _

The three words stare back at me, tauntingly, from my phone screen as ride the elevator up to the 16th. I don’t need my glasses to ascertain who the text is from, nor see the petulant message.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I lift my head as the elevator doors slide open. My job and my responsibilities lie in front of me, and as much as I want to put aside the situation with Amanda, it’s hard to draw my mind’s attention from her.

I know I must have hurt her from the way her eyes glittered and begged me from the deep, azure oracle of her gaze. My heart still aches from the raw, wounded pieces of her that seemed so blatantly displayed. My stomach churns with the sinking feeling that I have dug myself only deeper into this predicament.

She's crushed my every defense, every hard, cold brick I've rectified around my heart, burrowed in deep. I can't stop my hands from shaking, nor my body from aching.

I spent the entirety of last night tossing and turning, agonizing over my lustful desires. I've taken on the role as her protector, but now all I can imagine is her bent over my desk again, writhing in orgasm. I wanted so badly to be angry with for her utter disregard of my decision. I contemplated taking her over my knee once more in just punishment...but before the night was over I realized that this monster is one of my own creation. If anyone deserves a good lashing it's me.

I sigh heavily as I exit the elevator, and head straight towards my office. I can close the door, and bury myself in paperwork. Under the guise and safety of work, perhaps I can strategize a way out of this - or at least devise a resolution that will satisfy us both.

“Hey, Lieu,” Carisi calls to me, spinning his chair around as I enter. “Rollins ok?”

“Yes, she'll be here soon.” I reply. “Until then, grab Fin if you have to.”

Carisi frowns skeptically, but doesn't question me, for which I am grateful. The last thing I need is Carisi’s inquisitive nature to snap the last of my composure over the situation.

Heading quickly into the office, I press the door shut with a relieved exhale that I have made it to the solace of these four walls. I wander towards the desk and put my briefcase on top before I sink to the chair. The plush leather welcomes me, but when I close my eyes, I can't think of work.

All I can remember is her fingers between my legs, rubbing insistently against my swollen core. If I hadn't stopped her, she might not have been the only one climaxing to the touch of her hand.

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. My heart is rushing already at the mere memory of her hand touching me through my clothing. I hardly dare to contemplate what happened after that.  

_ What's are you doing to me? _ I think, desperately, clutching the arms of the chair.

With arousal lacing my veins, and the memories too strong to ignore, I feel crushed by the weight of my desire. My morals groan, holding on by bare tethers of self control that I'm not even sure I want to hold onto.

_ I need you _ . Amanda's voice whispers like a siren song through my mind, an irresistible call to my ravenous body.

A sudden rapping on the door jars me, and a gasp jumps from my lips. Bolting upright in the chair, I clutch my chest as Carisi pokes his head.

“You okay, Lieu?” He asks.

“Yes, yes, you just startled me.” I reply, managing to keep the breathlessness from my tone. “What is it?”

“We got a call from a doc at Mercy Hospital. They think they got a molestation vic. Eight years old.”

“Take Fin.” I reply, motioning towards the squad room.

“You sure you're okay?” Carisi asks once more, his blue-grey eyes narrowed intuitively.

“Fine, Carisi, thank you.” I say with a nod, hoping he will take my word for it.

Giving him a short smile, I begin to riffle through the pink slips of notes that have been left for me. I feel Carisi linger for a moment longer, but when the door closes, I drop the slips with a sigh.

My distracted state of mind won't do. I have a squad to run, and Amanda is only making things worse by not showing up to work where I can keep an eye on her.

Snatching my phone from my pocket, I open the screen to her message once more. Noting the time, I realize it's been nearly an hour since I left her apartment, and I wonder if she has any intention of coming in at all.

_ I need my entire squad here _ . I text in reply.  _ Please get yourself together and get in here. _

Tossing the phone onto the desk, I rub my hands over my face. It's hard to breathe evenly around the anxious flutter of my heart.

I thought going to see her and laying out exactly what my thoughts and decisions are would shake her from this singular path of desires, but maybe I was trying to convince myself more than her.

My phone buzzes against the desk, lighting up the screen with a notification. I grab it quickly, and open the message, but my stomach twists sharply at her response.

_ Make me. _

I stare at the screen for several long seconds, my fingers quivering around the device. Frustration and indignation bloom quickly in my chest, rising as a slow burn of anger. I'm immediately clutched by the instinct to stride out of this office, drive back to her apartment, and teach her exactly what this kind of behavior will earn her….

Gripping my phone tightly, I clench my teeth against rash decisions. I can't immediately sway to every rebellious huff and puff that she blows in my direction. I've already bowed once. I can't do it again.

Breathing out slowly, I type with sharp jabs of my thumbs,  _ Fine. I will file a report on your failure to obey a commanding officer. _

Her reply is swift, _ Fine. I’m sick. I need to use one of my vacation days. Stick that in your report. _

My fingers curl into a fist at her response, and I press my knuckles hard to my mouth to muffle a low sound of frustration. She’s pushing, pulling, and shoving, hoping that at some point she will find the correct pressure point under which I will give way. She’s hoping, and I want so badly to snap beneath her prodding.

My phone buzzes suddenly a second time, inciting another swarm of both dread and anticipation to swirl in my stomach. I glance down at the screen, gingerly, to see a photo message loading beneath our spiteful texts. My heart rate drives upward sharply because my gut is turning over with the premonition that the picture with be nothing less than overtly inappropriate. She's already broken me once with such tactics, and I wish I had the faith in myself to believe that I have learned from my mistake.

When I gaze back down, the picture has loaded, blooming across my screen in the vivid colors of her rosy flesh, and the honey tendrils of hair curling at the junction of her groin. Her delicate fingers are poised between her parted thighs, a bold display for which I took the blame only an hour ago. A myriad of emotions flurry through my chest, the strongest of which are in conflict. My heart rages somewhere between indignation and desire, a sharp, heady combination which has already lead me to destruction once before.

The tenuous balance I’ve held above the flaming pit of ruin wavers madly inside me, and I groan against the pressure of my knuckles. My hand is trembling, clenched into a fist, but I cannot physically stop this.

A third message appears on the screen with the vibrant vibration forcing a quick inhale from my lips. I lift the screen to read the words, my heart racing in a dull thud against my eardrums.

_ I’m sick mommy i need u to make me better. _

The rapid chugging of my pulse grinds to nothing for half a second in which I feel my insides swell with the gush of arousal. In the next second, my heart is galloping again, and I’m bolting up from the desk, despite my trembling legs. My mind is a blur of hot blooded scenarios and impulsive possibilities, but I keep myself grounded, gripping the edge of the desk hard.

_ She’s baiting me. _

_ The situation is already out of control. _

_ I’ve already made things worse. _

I tell myself everything I have to in order not to burst out of the office and back to her apartment in an injudicious explosion of desire. If I break now, I will never regain control. If I want any future as her caretaker this decision must be mine and mine alone. She must be on her knees, kissing my feet - not standing above me, playing puppeteer with my every whim.

I breath out slowly, and when I open my eyes, the storm is slowly passing. I shove the tight clench of desire from the forefront of my mind, and sit back down slowly. My body hums in the background, but I must live with it, at least for the rest of the day.

She will wait for me, and when I do take her, her rebellion will be incinerated beneath the fiery dominance of my hand. She’s had her way for long enough. She  _ will _ bend to me, and me alone.

 

**xxxx**

_ Amanda _

The afternoon reality shows that I've watched for the better part of the day have trickled down into the swill of late night TV, and I’ve fallen into a fitful doze on the couch when a heavy, determined knock on my door awakens me. I twitch awake, blinking quickly against the bright flashes of light from the TV in the darkness of my apartment, and I realize the sun must have gone down while I slept.

Staggering up from the couch, I blindly search for the remote to silence the television before turning on a light. I squint beneath the sudden glare as the knocking comes again.

Now that I’m fully awake, I pause at thought of who it could be. A quick glance at my watch tells me that it’s nearly 10 pm. Gazing back up at the door, I hesitate once more.

_ It could be her…. It’s most likely her. _

I walk slowly towards the door, feeling my heart pick up speed in my chest. I wouldn’t be so apprehensive except for the fact that I sent that photo. I had no desire to touch myself after our conversation, but I knew that it would infuriate her. I sent it out of spite,and out of the hope that she would return in a fit of righteous anger. I thought that if I could re-create our encounter in the office just one more time that maybe, just maybe, she would break this time.

But my text went unanswered for hours until finally at just past five pm she replied with a simple,  _ We’ll see about that tonight. _

It was as neutral she could have possibly been, but to my aching body it seemed like much more of a threat than an avoidance of my overtly sexual messages. It was a calm facade, and through the guise of text messages, she might’ve convinced me, had I not already seen the storm brewing beneath the surface of her olive flesh.

Now, as I tremble towards the door, I can only wonder at exactly how she will crush me. There are so many ways to sweetly suffer beneath her hands, and the mystery of my fate clenches both excitement and fear into a knot in the pit of my stomach.

The knock comes again, loud and harsh, a demand.

I grab the doorknob, my sweating palm gripping the cool metal with as much courage as I can muster. I wrench the deadbolt open with the other, breathing heavily as I know that I am willingly removing the only barrier between me and the judgment of her hand.

She comes into view, shadowed by the darkness outside. The thin strip of light from inside my apartment slants across her face and body, illuminating half of her austere visage. She’s glancing back when I open the door, but when her eyes turn upon me, I feel a shiver overtake my entire. I want to cower down to the floor immediately, and perhaps, that would be the smartest action I could take. Sooner or later, I will be there anyways.

We don’t say a word. The seconds tick by, agonizingly slow. I’ve been waiting for her all evening, tossing and turning on the couch, trying desperately to distract myself from the inevitable. Now, she’s here, standing over me, and I can hardly move.

She lifts a hand, planting it on the door. I gasp at the soft smack of flesh against wood, and I sink back slowly as she pushes the door open wider. She presses inside, her body nearly up against mine as she invades my space. She takes the doorknob from me, and tosses it shut behind her, dismissive and final.

“Olivia…” I finally manage to whimper, my voice emitting small and hoarse.

She advances, and I stumble back, my legs shuddering beneath my weight. I want to fall to my knees in front of her, grasp one long leg, and beg for her mercy - but if I only wanted her to punish me, I would’ve already done that. I want more, so much more….

Her hand is quick, lightening fast, striking my mouth with a burning crack. I gasp, my heart leaping into my throat, and I grab at my stinging lips. My breath chokes from my throat, my eyes pricking with shocked tears though it’s hardly the physical pain that pushes the emotion through my chest. The aftermath of the smack is already fading from my flesh, but the disappointment burning through her dark eyes takes hold of my heart and twists it, hard.

Her hand slides into my hair, curling into the nape as she pulls me closer. Her body is pressed to mine, and I can feel her breath upon my cheek, causing me to quake.

“I could tell you a thousand times what I expect of you, and you’d still disobey me.” She speaks, her tone low, barely controlled.

I press my eyes shut as another rush of tears fill my eyes, and I wish I could sink down against me, and hide my face in her breasts.

“Liv, please…”I whine, my voice pathetic.

“If I have to punish you to make you understand our roles in this relationship, I will.” She continues, ignoring my desperate plea. “I will bend you over all night if that’s what it takes.”

I groan, my knees bowing beneath me, but she doesn’t let me collapse. Instead, she pulls be around, putting my back up against her chest, and her mouth presses to my ear.

“Walk to the bedroom.” She orders, her tone quiet, though it’s anything but gentle.

My heart shifts into overdrive at her command, and I fight to breathe around the hoard of emotions clogging my throat. I can hardly discern my fear from my arousal, my humiliation from my desire. Either way, I don’t even think to resist her.

She urges me forward and I comply, though my legs sway beneath me on our path to my bedroom. She walks me down the hall with an unrelenting grip, and I can hear her breathing rasp across my ear. Her body heat is blazing from beneath the layers of her clothing, and the passion that is intertwined in her every exhale rakes shivers down my back, and up through my skull.

By the time we reach the bedroom, I hardly feel whole, but rather a shattered mess of desire, anticipation, and exhilaration.

She rushes me to the bed, pushing me down on my face across the sheets. Her fingers tremble in my hair with the fervor of her own emotions, and I quiver deep in my core at her ardor.

Whether she fucks me or not, I cling to the thought that no one else has ever shaken her this way. No one else will ever feel this passion which bleeds from her every orifice like a sickly sweet infection. I stand alone beneath the fire of her judgement, a place I will always willingly crawl back to without fail.

“You won’t touch yourself again.” She demands in my ear, her voice harsh with underlying desire.

I want to snap back at her, ask her what right she has to decide my pleasure when she won’t even touch me, but with her fingers in my hair, I don’t dare to test her. Her body is on top of mine, and I’m ravenous for it, even now.

She leans back, and I gasp as she plants her knee at my lower back, holding me still. I turn my head, to catch sight of her movements, but then I hear the jangle of metal against metal. Straining my eyes in the low lighting, I watch her tug her handcuffs out of their case from behind her right hip. She glances over at me, our eyes clashing in the dark, and she holds them up for me to see.

“If you can’t control yourself I will take away the temptation.” She says, flipping one of the cuffs open with the wrench of metal on metal.

Taking one of my arms, she fits the cuff around my left bicep, just above the elbow. I moan, pressing my face into the sheets as she latches the other cuff around my opposite arm in the same manner, completely incapacitating me. They're tight, biting into my arms and holding my shoulders tight. The slightest movement causes me discomfort, but she already knows that.

She shifts her knee off my back and grabs my hips, pulling my knees up beneath my body. I pant into the mattress as she positions me, my body trembling inside. I can already feel my pussy throbbing, a tight ball of arousal expanding inside me. I’m helpless to her with my arms cuffed and my ass up in the air, and she, no doubt, wants me to feel the weight of that realization.

Her hips are pressed up against me as she pushes her thumb beneath the waistband. I'm wearing a pair of loose, worn sweatpants and they slip easily from my hips, nearly too quick of a surrender for me to accept. If she hadn't cuffed me I might already be fighting her, desperately attempting to seduce her….But I can't do anything, and that simple fact pushes an overwrought moan from my lips.

My arms strain against the cuffs, pushing a sweet ache through my muscles, as I hear the rustle of her clothing. I nearly hurt myself trying to look over my shoulder to watch her strip her jacket from her arms. My stomach takes a sharp swan dive into the waters of apprehension as her hands drop to her belt buckle. Her movements are jagged and determined, and I whimper, squirming in my place on bed. I want to clench my thighs together and pull my hips down, but I don't doubt that it will be a waste of energy. She'll put me right back where she wants me, and punish me harder for it.

The bed shifts as she plants her knee beside mine and drags my hips close. My breathing comes quick and heavy, a panicked rasp in the silence, but she hushes me with a caress over my lower back. I shiver, uncontrollably, at the gentle touch, goosebumps rippling over my flesh.

“'Livia….” I whisper into the sheets, my throat tight and aching with the combination of dread, fear, and dangerous arousal.

I've never been so vulnerable in my life, and despite my trust in her, I'm shaking. For the first time since this all began, I'm clenched by the terror of my feelings for her - the ones that can both warm my heart and freeze it with fear.  I feel as if I'm dancing on the tip of a blade, waiting to fall and impale myself upon the sharpness of her desire. I don't know whether to hide or to splay myself wide to the invasion of her body into mine. My ire has fled in the face of her unyielding power over me, a force too strong for me to withstand; now, all I can do is tremble as I slowly fall into pieces beneath her crushing grip.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Amanda _

“Shhhh….” She murmuring above me. “Hush…”

It’s a calmer tone than when she dragged me here, nearly shaking with the force of her desires, but it does nothing less than eviscerate me from throat to groin. Everything in between is a hot mess of raw nerve endings, filleted open by her raspy tone and unerring fingers. With my arms bound behind my back, and my body close to hers, there’s no path to escape - though I’m not sure I’m even searching for one at this point.

When she touches me with her other hand, her fingers curving over my buttock, I arch, my arms going taut against the metal bands despite the consequence of pain. Digging my face into the bed, I gulp back pathetic whimpers and moans.

She pulls me taut against her body, her fingers squeezing my opposite hip. She's about to touch me again, and my whole body clenches down in anticipation, a swirl of hot desire pooling at my core. Overwrought tears bloom against my tightly closed lids, and I bite down on my lower lip to hold back a cry.

Her hand slides from my ass cheek up to my tailbone, then trails lightly downwards. My breath catches in my throat, and I go still as anticipation floods my veins. I didn't expect her to touch me this way though it's all I've ever wanted. Shock holds me rigid as her fingers slip down in one smooth motion over my pussy. I jerk, raggedly, a choked moan emitting from my lips. She pulls me back as her fingers cup me in a slow squeeze. I suck in air, short, haltingly gasps which hardly feed my aching lungs, but there's nothing I can do to calm myself.

“Spread.” She murmurs, a command no matter how gently uttered. “Let mama see you.”

My heart spikes at her words, no doubt a biting reference to my spiteful texts. I knew she’d find some way to punish me with my words, but I have no remorse. There is no regret when she has me bent over and spread open; no, not when I sense that she will destroy me in so many ways.

I'm trembling and weak, but eager as I manage to clumsily shift my knees apart on the bed, desperate to have her touch the part of me which yearns for her the most. Her fingers make a second stroke as I fall into place, and a premature moan leaps to my lips. I immediately hide my face in the sheets, muffling the pathetic whines that claw at my throat.

Her fingers drag upwards, and I lunge again as she parts my wet, swollen lips beneath the gentle pressure. I can barely breathe, but manage to inch my hip back as her fingertips reach my aching entrance, nearly dipping into my gaping body. She pauses for a moment, swirling two against my pulsing hole. I cry out, as a second rush of tears fill my eyes, my body's urgent attempt to release the pent up desire and pleasure surging through me.

She holds my hip, and pulls me back into the arched position that she wants as her fingers smooth over my buttock and down my thigh. I gasp softly as she tugs my legs open wider, so far that I can hardly balance. Her hand slides back up my thigh and strokes in one long motion between my legs before disappearing completely.

I whine, quietly, wordlessly pleading her to continue, but for a long, torturous moment, she hardly even moves.

When her hand does return, it's not as I expect. She smacks me, suddenly and sharply, across my flushed, aching pussy. I cry out, jarring beneath the burning punishment to my sensitive core, but with the way she has me positioned, I can hardly move away. My heart is thundering in my chest, and halting gasps blast from my lips in shock as an aching throb surges through my groin.

“There's going to be rules, Amanda.” She says, her voice low, but even, as she pulls me back.

A second, stinging slap falls against my slowly swelling sex, dragging a sob from my mouth.

I had been prepared for the belt, for the punishing burn of the leather across my ass...but not for this. I feel as if I am floundering, barely keeping my head above the water despite having endured more painful discipline in the past. My entire body is flushing with pain and humiliation, but she won't let me go. She strikes me a third time, then a fourth in quick succession, forcing me to struggle against my bonds, uselessly.

“You'll listen to what you're told.” She tells me, pulling me steady against her. “And you won't question or disrespect me ever again.”

I cry into the bed, but my pathetic sniveling has no effect on her. Instead, she punishes my throbbing pussy once more, hardly pausing between the five sharp smacks of flesh against flesh. Heat floods my aching body down below, rising to a fever pitch, a boiling screech through my veins; and I jar away from her, my hips driving towards the bed.

“Please….” I cry out, my voice garbled by the myriad of emotions clutching my throat, and the sheets bunched against my mouth

“Don't speak.” She orders, dragging me back sharply, and immediately spanking me again.

I cry into the bed, digging my forehead into the mattress to hide my flushed cheeks and the tears squeezing from between my lids.

“You've earned this.” She tells me in a softer tone.

She cups me once more, a slow massage against my aching body, and I whimper. The harsh touch of her hand has left me engorged and oversensitized, making every brush of her fingers much more intense than I ever imagined it would be. My knees dig into the mattress, struggling to clench together at the onslaught of sensations.

“This is so you'll remember...you're mine.” She murmurs, low and husky. “Mine to protect...to direct...to punish.”

My body locks down in a shiver at her words, the guttural passion lining her tone. The very core of me clinches tight, only to release with a rush of arousal that I know she can feel with her hand clenched so tightly against my open, thrumming sex. I moan out loudly when I feel her fingers slide up, dragging through the abundance of moisture gathering at my entrance.

Her hand squeezes tight against my hip, and I hear her draw a shuddering breath. My heart palpitates wildly in my chest at the thought of arousing her so, just with the simply display of my own pleasure.

I want to plead with her again. I'm choking on the words that would beg her to penetrate me fully, to destroy me with the strength of her hand; yet she's barred me from uttering a single whimper. I clench my teeth hard against the jumble of pleas that lie just behind my lips, struggling not to explode with them as her fingertips circle my gushing core. She's so close to breaching my swollen pussy, so close that I could scream, but all I can do is silently writhe beneath her iron hold.

She touches me for what seems like minutes, dragging languid circles around my dripping hole, pushing my pleasure to near breaking point, before finally her hand falls away. I pant heavily into the sheets, nearly crying with both relief and frustration. I bite at my lip to keep myself quiet as she trails her moistened fingers over my buttock. It's barely a scrape of her nails over my flesh before it's nothing at all.

I tense in the interim of silence where she leaves me untouched, but I know it's far from over. I push my face into the sheets, breathing through my nose, eyes clenched shut.

_ Smack! _

She strikes me suddenly and sharply, and I buck forward, my mouth parting to release a strained screech. The force of her hand causes small explosions of pain and pleasure across my awakened nerve endings. The teasing of her fingers has brought the pulsing need for orgasm to the forefront of my mind, and the barest touch incites hot pleasure through my core - and her hand is anything but gentle.

_ Smack! _  Her fingers collide with my flushed labia and clitoris, forcing a burning throb through my entire groin.

“Ahnnnggg……” I cry out, choking on saliva and unintelligible pleas as I twist beneath the harsh punishment.

Tears are pricking my eyes as still another slap falls with the sharp flick of her wrist, and my back arches. I cry into the sheets as I try to drag my legs together, if only for a short reprieve.

She drags my hips back, and her palm cracks hard against my ass, stinging fresh flesh with pain.

Open.” She orders. “Now.”

Moaning in whimpered sobs, I slowly part my legs once more, though I’m rigid, waiting for another spanking. She slides her hand to my lower back, and presses to the curve of my spine, urging me to arch for her once more.

“Good girl.” She murmurs, rubbing her other hand over the flushed patch of skin on my ass, before her touch slips away.

Sucking in rapid, shallow breaths, I steel myself in the dreadful silence between her praise and her punishment. My pussy is throbbing and stinging while the pleasure of her touch quivers just beneath the surface, ready to rear it’s head and tears me pieces.

When her hand falls, biting and quick, I nearly scream, twisting away from her once more. She grabs my hips, and pulls me back, forcefully, to wrap her arm about my waist. She holds me still, and delivers an even harder smack than before, forcing a ragged cry from my lips. Pain explodes across my flesh, and  I thrust into the strength of her hold, testing her willpower. This time, however, she doesn't stop to silence me. She asserts the full power of her arm about me, and punishes me again - two, three, four, five, six…. I lose count, crying into the sheets, convulsing with every strike. I don't know whether I'm screaming in pain or pleasure, but she's blurred the lines so efficiently that I can't determine one from the other. All I know is that I'm coming undone, breaking and snapping inside, like a ball of yarn unwinding, faster and faster until finally….

Bright white pleasure scorches across my body, a wilderness blaze hungrily devouring every raw patch inside of me. I can't move. I can hardly even scream as my body clenches down, rigid and tight. For a long moment, all I can do is involuntarily shudder and twist beneath the climax’s grasp as the strongest of the pleasure burns a path up through my body.

I feel her come to an abrupt halt behind me at the realization of what is happening to my body. A strangled, low noise emits from my throat, seeming to break her from her trance. I hear her panting heavily as she grabs me close once more. When she touches me again, her palm rubs hard over my spasming pussy, pushing the pleasure higher inside of me. Her fingers drag over my clitoris, snapping me out of my rigid state, sending me tumbling into uncontrollable convulsions.

Crying out with a ragged, broken noise, I nearly tear my hips tear from her grasp; but she doesn't relent. The waves of orgasm are almost too strong too endure, and I scream once more, my arms wrenching wildly at the cuffs. I feel her grab onto the link between the cuffs, holding me still as she scrubs her fingers down hard against my clit, forcing another wave of orgasm to rise inside of me. I scream out as the pleasure implodes inside me, stronger than before, so much so that I can hardly withstand the violent eruptions.

Finally, when I nearly think to beg her to stop, she slows, as if sensing the overload of sensations that my body has endured. I groan as her fingers grind down to lax strokes, nursing the last of my climax into a sweetly burning afterglow.

When tide finally begins to recede, I feel her hand slip away, and she releases her hold on the cuffs, allowing me to collapse into the sheets. Even as the climax dwindles, I can feel my body twitching and reacting to every sensation. The very air on my flesh seems to cause a tremble, and I lay weakly on the sheets, panting and perspiring, whimpering quietly.

Dazed and spent, I can hardly grasp that this moment is a reality rather than a fantasy.

_ She touched me _ . I think, my heart galloping over itself in my chest with pure satisfaction. I can hardly breathe with the aftermath of the pleasure and the delightful memories of her fingers upon me.

My second thought is that she can’t deny me now. There is no misinterpreting the intention of her actions whether they were premeditated or not. Whatever arguments she’s used in the past are now null and void, erased by this moment of pure, undiluted desire and passion which she initiated and fully participated in.

I feel her touch my back, the first hesitant movement she’s made. I can barely lift my head to look at her, but then she’s leaning over me, her face buried in my neck. I can feel her quiver against me as one hand slides down my back and over the curve of my buttocks. I whine, quietly, though it isn’t much a protest as it is a plea. Her fingers slide between my weakened thighs, and I strain to part my legs once more. I don’t care if she lays me out for another spanking. I just want her to touch me again. I want to take me and obliterate me until neither of us an deny the feelings surging through our hearts.

I hear her release a choked breath as her fingers dip into my pussy, discovering the well of cum that has rushed to my entrance.

“Amanda…” She whispers, huskily, “My god…”

I groan, trying to push back against her, but with my body weak and trussed, my intentions translate as a mere twitch.

“Uncuff me…” I whisper, my voice scratchy from screaming.

She draws in a breath through clenched teeth, dragging her hand away from my pussy to my waist. She grasps my hip hard, her nails biting into my flesh as if she is holding on to tangible strings of self control.

“Olivia….” I plead in a groan.

I can’t let her turn away from me now, not when we are completely embroiled in this unexpected, yet amorous exchange.

She slides back at last, silent and tense, but a moment later I feel her unlocking the cuffs. My arms ache as she releases the bonds and I moan as the blood begins rushing through them.

As soon as I'm free I roll over to find her kneeling on the bed above, the cuffs dangling from her fingers. Her shirt is rumpled, half untucked, the buttons coming free at her chest; her hair is a wild mane around her dangerously desirous expression. She could crush me again, but I'm not afraid.

I push up from the bed and grab her waist with every intention of throwing her down if I must. Shoving my face against her stomach, I drag my hands up her hips, diving beneath the crisp edges of her oxford to touch her soft flesh. I breathe sharply through my nose as I bury my face into her sweet-smelling body, and pray to God that she feels the intensity of my desires bleeding from my fingers. My grip is full of ardor and purpose as I drag my fingers up her sides, feeling every rib and inch of flesh within the span of my hands.

“Amanda…” She whispers my name, her voice trembling.

I hear the cuffs hit the floor with a dull thud, then her hands grab at my shoulders as if she would push me away, but instead, she’s bowing over me with a low moan. I push her shirt up, completely, as my hands reach her breasts, and I dig my face into her bare stomach. Pressing my lips to her exposed skin, I close my fingers around the full, plushness of her chest. I breathe out with a ragged hum of pleasure when I feel her nipples hard and straining through the thin layer of bra.

“Amanda….” She repeats, her tone more close to a sob than a command as her fingers twist in the material of my shirt, nails biting into my flesh.

“Mmmm….” I moan, lapping my tongue against the curve of her hip.

She sucks in a sharp breath, her body twisting in my grasp. Pulling one hand from her breast, I clutch her ass, my fingers digging into supple flesh as I leave wet kisses along her stomach.

One trembling set of fingers press into my hair though she doesn't pull me away, and I turn my head up towards her. Her face is shadowed in the thick veils of her hair, but I can see her mocha gaze shimmering from beneath tightly drawn brows.

“I am yours…” I whisper, huskily “I don't want anyone else.”

Her fingers clench down in my hair, and she pressed her eyes shut. Her jaw is clenched tight, her mouth trembling, and I am certain that she doesn’t want me to stop. I can see the conflict in her eyes. I can feel it churning beneath her flesh, but tonight, she’s left all logic at the door. Tonight, she’s destroyed what’s left of that wall which stood between us.

“I want to be yours….completely…” I murmur, ducking my head against her stomach once more.

Kissing lower, I drag my tongue against the edge of the waistband of her pants, and listen to her moan. Emboldened, I hold her buttock in one hand and employ the other to unbutton her pants and drag the zipper down. She's rigid above me, breathing heavily, but she hasn't yet told me stop - and I know she won’t. I push on, digging my fingers under the edge of her pants and underwear. When I pull them down sharply, her hips rock to my motions, and I hear her emit a louder moan.

“Let me worship you.” I breathe, smoothing my hand over her bare hip and thigh.

Even in the dim lighting she's as beautiful as I've ever imagined - no, she's more breathtaking. I press my forehead to her stomach, yearning to drag her thighs apart and touch her with every ounce of passion that burns through me. My fingers ache to dip into her body, pleasure her until she’s aches in the deepest part of herself.

“I'll do whatever you want.” I promise, vehemently, drawing my hand up her thigh. “Just let me touch you…”

My thumb trails along the junction of her groin and hip, stroking the soft hairs curling there. I make another circuit, inching my hand closer to her, although I want so badly to press forward with no hesitance. Sucking a breath with a moan, I clutch her hip once more, if only to hold myself back from touching her without permission.

We’re so close, and now more than ever I want to lavish her with the respect that she deserves. It is a rare privilege to be here at her feet, witnessing the unwinding of her desires. I may be far from worthy, but all I want is to please her, to give her everything she wants until she can’t want anymore.

“God, please…” I moan, sinking down further against her, my head pressed to the soft patch of hair at her groin.

I can smell her sweet scent, feel it filling my nostrils with the heady musk of desire, and the lust that it infuses in my veins nearly pushes me to tears.

I slide from the bed, putting myself at her feet in the most literal way. On my knees, I quietly plead, knowing that if I let this moment go that we might never find ourselves here again.

“You have my devotion.” I whisper, clutching her hips. “You have my obedience. My desire… My everything.”

She’s quiet, her fingers trembling  and knotted in my hair for several long seconds before I feel her sink down to the bed. She pulls me to her, and I rush to follow her every move, falling into place between her knees. My head is bowed, but I feel her touch my cheek, a gentle caress, before her fingers dip beneath my chin. She drag my face up towards hers, and our eyes meet, though it isn’t like before. There are no barriers, no clash of resistance or rebellion. Her eyes are deep, unending pools of desire, continuously swirling with every desire she’s written into my veins.

Then she whispers two words, uttered raspy but firm, “Take me.”


	5. Chapter 5

_ Olivia _

When I stepped inside her apartment, I didn’t mean to let her sway me with her pouting, cherry lips, her wide, fluttering, blue eyes, and flushed, pink cheeks. Forceful passion lead me to her door, burning inside with the fire of a desire too strong to resist… now, recklessness has eaten a path to my heart, swallowing away whatever control I once held over my lustful fantasies.

I thought terror might engulf me once I touched her  _ there _ , once I took as I pleased with every intention of forcing her to submit to me - both emotionally and physically. I thought regret might fill me with an overwhelming wave of shame and horror… but when I felt her beneath my fingers, when she shuddered and writhed to the will of my hand, I could only feel satisfaction, pure and whole as I never have before.

She’s hardly touched me, and I can feel myself coming undone. I’m already halfway there with the way her hands have clutched at my body, the sounds of her begging echoing through my mind like the blissful strains of pleasure. Collapsing into her sheets is a release all of it’s own, and when my hands spread out, limply, at my sides, I can almost feel the bare strands of my resistance slip away from my fingertips.

Her hands come down upon me, scraping up my thighs with brash intentions that shake me. I cry out at even this simple touch because every single particle of me is alert and straining for this contact. My fingers dip into the bed, holding tight as she spreads my thighs apart, exposing my wanton, aching parts to her ravenous mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut, button my lips over a moan as I feel her breath rush hot across my flesh, warming my thigh and then my groin. I’m quivering there, intense spasms which clench me tight deep inside, and I can already hardly stand the stroke of her tongue.

_ She hasn’t even touched me yet. _

She leans in closer, and I feel her soft lips touch my hip, a gentle tease before she slides down my thigh. A pattern of kisses awaken goosebumps across my flesh, and I arch with a trembling moan.

“Amanda….” Her name leaves my mouth on the note of a whimpered plea.

My austere facade of dominant caretaker has withered beneath the touch of her hands and mouth upon me. Our roles remain, though for now I’ve crumbled into little more than a quaking vessel of desire, and she the rolling sea of pleasure.

Her tongue laps against my inner thigh, ending in a suck below my hipbone. I whimper at the tight pressure, a mere tease of what will become of my throbbing pussy. My palms sweat against the sheets as she drags her tongue down once more along the junction of my groin, coming dangerously close to my swollen labia.

“P...please…” I whisper, before I can bar the plea from tumbling from my errant tongue.

My mouth is dry against the following curse as she pushes her hands higher against my thighs, stretching my legs apart. My muscles strain to follow her command, and I bend my knees, willingly opening my body to her. I pray my vulnerable position will be the silent plea she needs to end this damning foreplay. I need so much from her; my body is a ravenous mouth of want, gaping and pleading for her touch. The days of intense desire that stretch out behind me have left me drowning in a pool of my arousal, and I’m not sure how much long I can withhold myself from her.

Her adamant pleading and illustrious devotion has hammered down the last of my resistance, and though I know I’m not thinking completely logically I can’t stop myself. From behind the haze of lust and pleasure, I tell myself that I will take the consequences later, while my body screams that this was always meant to happen. All of my struggling and resisting has been for naught when she falls to her knees before me ready to bless me with the adoration of her mouth. She’s been cuffed, held down, spanked… and yet, I feel it is I who feels the bonds of our relationship most harshly. There’s no escape when my very heart beats for the moments when only we exist to together; when I have desired most deeply for this union.

Below me, she hovers, and I hitch in a breath as she blows a steady stream of hot air across my wet, aching body. My over sensitized flesh feels every sensation as a zealous assault, causing me to arch sharply against the the rumpled sheets. Tearing my stiff grip from the sheet in order to grab for her blonde head, I sink my fingers into her soft locks. I’m trembling all over, but I manage to drag her closer in a desperate yank. She ducks her head against my groin, panting heavily as she withholds from me the the sweetest torture of her lips. If she means to torment me with what I have denied us both for so many days, there is no doubt that I deserve it - and perhaps, I should accept unquestioningly whatever she heaps upon me; but now I am desperate, crazed with desire. I need the pleasure. I need the orgasm; but more than that, I need her to push me there as ruthlessly as I have done to her.

Summoning my strength, I give her hair another sharp pull, demanding, raspily, “Fuck...me…”

She moans, a low noise that makes my body clench once more, and I can feel her nose pressing into me just above my clitoris. Arching my hips up towards mouth, I cradle her lips towards my throbbing sex.  I can feel her hair tickling my thighs and stomach, her fingers clenching my thighs hard enough to bruise as she resists me one last time.

“Take me, Amanda…” I groan through gritted teeth, thrusting up towards her mouth. “Fuck me… fuck mommy...”

She lunges against me with with a sharply drawn breath, a whimper following quickly after as she sinks down between my legs. The ceiling dances above my head as she closes in, then the warmth of her mouth shocks me. Her lips close around my labia and clitoris, and I feel my mouth drawing open in a silent cry. For several long seconds I can hardly move. I can hardly even breathe beyond uneven, halting exhales.

When she sucks down, however, my body yanks upward from the sheets as if I’m swinging by marionette strings. The whole world tilts, bursting into color as pleasure sears me, drawing my stomach and groin tight with coiling climax. Immediately, tears fill my eyes at the sharpness of pleasure that burns across my flesh with a fiery passion. It’s almost as if I can’t stand her touch, though I want it so badly, and I wonder if this is my punishment.

“Oo-oohh….” I moan out, my tone strangled with force of this gluttonous indulgence.

My fingers are knotted in her hair in my uncoordinated grip as she pulls her mouth away, only to press her tongue out against my swollen flesh. I buck at the simple gesture, another sob welling up in my throat, but she holds my legs tight, spreading me apart, as she laves her tongue up the length of my gushing slit. When her tongue reaches my clitoris, I jerk beneath her, my eyes rolling back into my skull.

I feel as if I could come in this very second, but maybe I’m already in the throes of orgasm, and every single second of this bittersweet torture is one unending, devastating climax.

The second lick of her tongue against me pushes gagged cries from my lips and I writhe beneath her, nearly tearing my knees from her grip. She bears down upon me, scrubbing her mouth down against my inflamed, gushing pussy in a harder, steadier motion now. My free hand bats at the sheets while the other wrenches wildly in her hair, threatening to remove the affliction of her mouth from my screeching body, but she doesn’t stop. Her blonde head bobs between my legs, carrying her tongue in circles around my engorged clit and quivering hole.

I feel a tear breaking from the corner of my lid as I helplessly thrash beneath her. What I commanded her to do hardly a minute a go, I can barely take now that it is thrust a upon me so vigorously.

“Amanda….’Manda….” I sob, first thrusting toward her, then arching away as the pressure of her tongue becomes too much.

Finally, I buck so hard beneath her that her hands come unlatched from my legs, and my body involuntarily twists away from her. Clenching my thighs against my quivering pussy, I clasp my hands over my face, sucking in desperate breaths. I’m horrified to realize that as soon as I have removed myself from beneath her, my body is immediately begging for the touch her mouth once more. The wanting is voracious, even more so now that I’ve had a taste of what she can do to me.

My dilemna is promptly shattered when I feel the bed shift. I grab at the sheets, trembling, as she rises above me, her cerulean eyes raging with desire from beneath the fringe of her golden hair. She grabs my legs and pushes my knees up against my chest, putting me into a truly helpless position as she presses her forearm to the back of thighs.

“What….? W-wait…” I choke out, but she isn’t hesitating.

I feel her fingers touch me, determinedly, parting my wet slit. I sputter over a combination of incoherent protests and pleas, but her fingertips are already rubbing against my aching entrance with purpose and passion, seeking entrance. I gasp, grabbing at her arm as she plunges one into me in one ragged motion.

“Amanda!” I cry out, arching beneath her as she seats her knuckles against me.

She doesn’t seem to hear my gasping and moaning as her finger swirls inside of me. I try to squirm away from the overload of sensations, but with her whole body weight pinning me, I only manage to seat myself harder on her hand. I whimper at even the tiniest movement, but when she draws her hand back and I feel a second finger probing at my entrance, my hips go still.

“Oh, god, oh, god…” I whimper, clenching down on handfuls of the sheets and pressing my eyes shut against the burn of overwrought tears.

My desperate chanting is pathetic even to my ears, and I clasp my teeth over my lower lip, swallowing back my panicked cursing. But when her fingers press forward, sheathing into me in one slow, steady motion, the pleasure is agonizing. My teeth lose hold on my lip as I arch beneath her and I feel a scream on my lips, but I don’t have the breath to release it. The breadth of her two digits pressing into my tightly clenched passage hardly allows me to move. Intense pleasure sears me at the fresh sensation, and I lay beneath her, gasping over and over, barely able to process the newest torture. My wide eyes dance across the swirling ceiling, then towards her as I grapple for my grounding on this plane of heady pleasure - the one I have been too terrified to set foot on until this moment.

Our eyes lock, but her gaze is veiled in determination, and somewhere beneath, desperation. She may be standing over me, but I sense that she is grasping for control just as I am. Still, I shudder, because I know what such reckless passion can do, and what my lengths my refusal has pushed her to. The boundaries of our relationship are smudged into nothing, and though we must go on from this encounter, I’m somehow willing to let anything happen, if only for this single evening. Now, I realize, I  _ need _ this to happen.

She stares back at me, and I whimper as she curls her fingers inside of me, creating a twinge of pleasure almost too elusive to grasp. She watches my face twist with the deep pang, her gaze holding steady.

“I’m gonna fuck you.” She whispers at last, her tone raspy, barely trembling, causing me stomach to clench. “So  _ you  _ won’t forget.”

She thrusts fingers into me again,suddenly, in a deep, long motion, and I cry out, a garbled tone, “Aaaghhhh!”

My head is tilted back, body rigid as she slices my body open with the divine penetration of her hand. Every sensation shocks me as if no person has ever touched me before the way that she has - and, as I cry out, I don’t think anyone else will ever again.

When she fucks her fingers into me again, I sob, twisting my face away from her to hide the bloom of shame across my face because I’ve been so wrong. She isn’t my sinful pleasure - but, rather, my saving grace. The stunning epiphany pushes another rush of emotion through my chest, and I cry out because I’m burning, both inwardly and outwardly. Her fingers are inside me; they’re wrapped around my heart. If I’m coming apart at the seams it’s under the faithfulness of her hands.

I’m shaking, a pitiful mess beneath her as she leans harder on my bent legs, holding me down, vulnerable and painfully open to her excruciating pleasuring. If I had a voice, I’d plead her not to stop, to force this pleasure on me until I must beg her for relief - but I think she already knows. The meaning of her words aren’t lost on me, even in this singular state of mind, and I realize that she’s taking what she wants, just as I have. I want to cry out, to tell her that she’s already marked me for eternity.

With a third thrust, she begins an urgent rhythm, fucking me quick and hard with the sole intent of toppling me into the abyss of orgasm. My feet flail above my head while my hands tear at the sheets for purchase. She’s stretching me open over and over again, searing pleasure into every single nerve ending inside me, and I can hardly take it. My body is screaming though my lips can hardly release a sound and what manages to filter through emits in low whines and high-pitched cries. My ears are filled with the chugging of my heartbeat, Amanda’s heavy panting, and the explicit sounds of her fingers fucking into my wet, open pussy.

I don’t resist or fight any longer. Although my body is riddled with overwhelming sensations, I force myself not to buck away from her. I sob as I take each punishing thrust until until they culminate into a rising tide of pleasure, even stronger than each wave which laps so diligently at my being. She hunches down over me, releasing low, ragged pants and moans, as she narrows her touch down to my puffy g-spot. She senses I’m on the edge, and I cry out in unintelligible whines to beg her to finish me. She scrubs down harder and faster, and I arch, lifting my hips off the bed as the pleasure rushes down upon me, suddenly, nearly too quickly for me to imagine possible. She pushes back against me kicking legs, delivering the final thrusts that snap the last tethers of my control.

The orgasm spikes sharply inside me, consuming first my groin, and then my entire body in uncontrollable spasm. I twist beneath her, my eyes clamped shut as the explosive pleasure rocks my entire body piercing blow. One second I can hardly scream, and the next my mouth is stretching out, releasing one wail after another. The seconds stretch on as the climax ravages my insides, causing deep clenches, then unstoppable shudders. I can hear her groaning exhausted exhales as she labors over my contorted frame until finally she sinks down from the bed.

I’m panting and disoriented when my lids finally flutter open. Tears cling to my lashes, distorting my vision as I gaze up at the ceiling. My body feels weak and almost numb below me as I lay spread out, spent and pillaged. My breathing is raspy, my heart thudding against my ears in the debilitating aftermath.

Below me, Amanda has collapsed on the floor between my knees once more. Her forehead is pressed to my knee and I can feel her hands quivering against my legs. I try to lift my head to gaze down at her, but I can barely keep myself aloft before I collapse once more. I feel her slide down as she clasps my ankles and I quiver as I feel her mouth touch my shin. She lays gentle kisses down the length of my leg before reaching the top of my foot. The warmth of her breath rushes across my toes and and I clench my teeth softly at the hints of pleasure that run through my veins.

“Thank you…” I hear her whisper, her tone husky. “I don’t deserve to touch you, but…. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

My stomach fills with warmth, clenching to the sound of her devotion, and the feeling of her at my feet. She’s put herself there, even when she was in a position to overpower me, and the re-affirmation of our roles in the relationship, even after such a startling development, emboldens me. She respects me as she should, even after the way she held me down, and her outpouring at my feet nearly erases what fears I still harbor. She still wants me as her caretaker, and she is still my perfect submissive.

I allow her to remain bent at my feet for a moment longer until I have the strength to sit up and gaze down at her beautiful, bowed posture. I have to still the tremble in my hand as I reach down to touch her soft crown.

“Look at me.” I murmur, sliding my fingers down her cheek.

She moves slowly, lifting a flighty, hesitant gaze towards me. Her cheeks are ruddy from exertion, her blue eyes bright against the rosy hue.

“You deserve the world.” I whisper, clasping her flushed cheeks in both my hands. “You deserve all the fulfillment that I can possibly give you.”

Her brows furrow and she glances away, biting anxiously at her lower lip. I understand her behavior, but I wish I could explain to her in words the revelation that has shaken me, but I don’t even know where to begin. It all seems much too powerful to place into a few syllables or sentences; but I know that I can show her, if she’ll give me another chance.

“I didn’t go too far?” She asks.

“For tonight….” I say, softly, tucking hair behind ear to gaze at her face, “No….. but, if you still want this relationship as it was… things will be different….For both of us.”

She bites at her lip again, though she ducks her face further into my hand as she whispers, “I want it all, Olivia. I want things as they were, and I want this too….I want all of you.”

She lifts her head to look at me, and she takes my wrist in her hand, holding my palm to her cheek. I can sense the fear of rejection in her eyes, and I don’t judge her hesitance. I’ve spent far too much time dwelling on what horrible repercussions a sexual relationship might bring upon us, and too little time learning exactly what she needs.

“I’m sorry, Amanda.” I say, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone. “I’m sorry for not listening to you when you talked to me. I’m sorry for not giving you what you need to be happy.”

She gazes up at me, eyes wide, and I imagine that she’s shocked by my humble attitude; but I won’t tell her I’ve been anything but selfish. She deserves the truth, and she deserves all of my devotions, just as she has given to me.

“Your needs are going to be a priority now.” I promise, stroking her cheek, and trailing my thumb over her mouth. She quivers beneath my gentle touch, leaning into my once more with an eagerness that creates warmth deep in my core once more.

"Now, come here.” I murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “This time, I’m going to properly make love to you.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see her cheek flush with desire. She pulls herself up from the floor immediately, though she lets me drag her to the bed, and push her down as I please. When she stretches out below me, her arms drawn above her head, desire shakes me, as if I haven’t just wasted myself upon the worship of her fingers.

She expects me to pin her wrists down and ravage her, but instead, I slide down her body, leaving lingering kisses along her trembling stomach. I’m on my knees for her, and when I glance up at her heavy-lidded expression, I know that she senses the whole meaning of the act I’m about to perform on her wanton body. This is more than pleasure, and more than give and take. This is our completion, our devotion, our love.

We haven’t said those words yet, but when I look down the path of our future in my mind’s eye I no longer see darkness, but light. She’ll be holding my hand to the very end, and that, I think, is love.


End file.
